She’d been anticipating this kind of unorthodox play, and this was probably the game that her dear papa had played against Morgan St. Martin.
“That sounds agreeable,” she said, desperately trying to keep her voice low, and concealed from her father. “I, too, am here only for the fun of it. I shan’t be taking any of the winnings.”
“Capitol. So what shall we be laying bets on?” Geoffrey Woodward asked, staring at Mallory with his beady little eyes.
“I shall be betting on everything that you stole from my father,” Mallory’s voice was cold, so cold that Elizabeth wanted to shiver.
“Your Grace,” she said, her voice only slightly wavering, as he turned to look at her. “I do not want to overstep my bounds, but perhaps you should ask for some compensation as well. Say, all of his properties in England, not to mention about two hundred thousand pounds, and his daughter,” she coughed, and stared down at the tricks that had been played already. She had a winning hand, now all that she had to hope was that Mallory would go along with her.
What she’d asked for was a pittance as far as her father was concerned, but he’d be bloody pissed to lose his estates in England. He loved each and every one of them. Finally, he would feel the pain that Mallory had felt because of him.
He stared at her in open-mouthed amazement.
“What’s this, eh? What are the two of you whispering about?”
She groaned, and kept herself from smiling. Her father was losing his hearing, and she knew that it had to be driving him mad not to know what was going on.
“If you throw that bet in, you will soon find that everything will be yours, to have and hold, for the rest of your life. I will stake my life on it.”
Mallory’s eyes flashed with blue fire, and then, he turned back to her father.
“Since you didn’t hear old man, I will tell you. I want everything you own in England. And I would like your daughter. I desire to make her my duchess.”
“Now see here, young man,” Geoffrey muttered.
“You shall address him as, Your Grace,” Elizabeth snapped. She wanted to get up from where she sat and walk over to him and give him a good slap across the face. Instead, she remained seated, and prayed for patience.
“Your Grace, then,” her father repeated. “I have some lovely properties here in England that I won from your papa, and a few others that I purchased myself. I even bought old lands of my dear Papa’s, after my stupid older brother ran them into the ground. I shall not give them over to an upstart like you, St. Martin. You don’t deserve them. You were, only the spare, weren’t you?” he asked snidely.
She gave her father a dirty look. When he used that as a means to insult Mallory, he was also insulting himself, as he was the spare to the heir.
She could see that that last remark had raised the ire of Mallory, as shocked gasps echoed around them. If she didn’t intervene, Mallory would wring her father’s neck, and he’d never win his lands back.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but you aren’t giving them over. His Grace shall have to win them first, and to win against you, he’d have to be quite clever indeed.”
Her father grumbled for a bit more, and then, let out a large sigh. “Fine, then. Have it your way, boy. But I shall be the one left laughing when all of this is said and done. I honestly do not know why I am worrying so much. It isn’t as if you shall win, anyway. Now for my bid. I want your sisters and mother out of your damnable ancestral castle, Chichester Castle, posthaste. I would like to make a gift of it to my daughter, and when I win, you shall not ever clap eyes on my daughter again. Is that quite clear, sir?”
“Quite,” Mallory said.
“I want your solemn vow, boy. I do not know what you mean to my Bess, but I will have an end of it, right here and now. Upon your soul, do you give me your word?”
“I do,” Mallory said, fire blazing in his eyes.
She had to win now…she couldn’t forfeit Mallory, not when they were so close to having everything.
Her father was too arrogant for his own good, and she prayed that would be his downfall. He would soon find that his world was about to be ripped right out from underneath him. He revealed his last trick, with a smarmy grin.
Elizabeth’s heart had stopped for the briefest of moments, but as soon as she saw her father’s card, she knew that she had finally outfoxed the fox. “I would not be getting too cocky, sir, for I do believe that my trick trumps your trick.” She carefully placed her card face up on the deck, and watched as her father’s face fell. His house of cards had finally fallen. He looked quite undone. He rested his eyes on her winning card, and then he began blustering. “It would seem, Your Grace that you can walk away from this table a winning man. Congratulations to you, sir,” she said heartily.
“Thanks to you, I can.” He smiled at her, and she felt her heart skip a beat.
She leaned over toward him, and whispered in his ear. “You asked me to teach you how to win, Mallory. Well, if you do not know now, then, I fear that I will never be able to teach you.” She smiled at him, and placed her hands on the table. He remained motionless, and she wondered if he had even understood what she had said.
Her papa was working himself up into quite a temper and, as she pushed herself to her feet, she couldn’t help but hope that he would just disappear.
When she turned to leave the table, Mallory was asking for the deeds to his properties. Oh, he was quite the land baron now. His family would never have to worry about money again. His legacy was secure.
Her job here was done.
Smiling, she made her way through the throng of assembled men. They nodded at her as she passed, with looks of admiration, and some clapped her enthusiastically on the back.
She had finally triumphed, even if she had not succeeded in winning her heart’s desire. She stumbled past the rest of the men, and somehow made it out of White’s. She nearly tripped down the steps, and took a moment to catch her breath.
Ronald followed her. “Be…Beaumont, wait for me.” He dashed down the steps, and stood with her. “You look rather pale, you’re not going to faint are you? I’ve had my carriage summoned, and I shall take you home, posthaste.”
“It’s all been for naught, Ron. I failed—oh how I failed,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
“You bloody well didn’t…you gave your papa a good thrashing—one he soon won’t forget.”
“That’s not what I meant. Oh, Ron,” she sighed heavily. Raleigh had followed her and stood next to Ron.
“What a show! That was wonderful, cousin. Come on, Bess, you look rather peaky,” Raleigh said. “I will take you home.”
She gripped her walking stick tightly, and stared up at the street lanterns. Raleigh was right. She had to get back to her townhouse before her father could reach it—or else he would discover what she’d done. She’d have to pack up what she could, and retreat to a house that didn’t belong to her father—now she knew why her grandfather had left her part of his fortune. He had wanted her to be independent. She smiled despite herself. His love had been pure…what she had from her father? She wasn’t certain about that.
She heard someone pounding down the steps behind her, and let out a startled exclamation when that someone grabbed a hold of her arm, and pulled her around. Speechless, she stared at Mallory. He raked his eyes over her, and they were full of hungry desire. The same friends of Mallory’s that had been with him at the Hazard table followed him out of the club.
“Did I hear you right, Elizabeth?” His question was spoken so quickly, that she nearly did not catch it.
“Yes,” she whispered, her heart still racing.
She blinked against the oncoming tears, which always seemed to be plaguing her. She dropped her gaze to the street, and then looked up when she felt his hand on her chin. He gently tilted her face up, so that he could drink her up with his eyes.
Elizabeth stared over his shoulder when she heard a familiar voice. Groaning, she stepped away
from Mallory, and turned around when she saw the look of fury on her papa’s face. Had he realized who she was, and the part that she had played in tonight’s scheme?
“St. Martin, I want my property returned to me, right this instant,” he bellowed.
“Well, I am happy to say that you can’t have it back,” Mallory shot back, not intimidated in the slightest.
She smiled, as she imagined the ear-to-ear grin that was most likely splitting across Mallory’s gorgeous face.
Her father was beside himself! “Now see here you, young scoundrel! I shall have it back from you, one way, or another.”
“You see, he thinks you are a scoundrel, too,” she whispered, trying not to giggle.
“I do not think that you wish to go any further, sir,” Mallory’s voice turned deadly, and if her father had any brains left in his fat head, he would take the hint and run the other way.
“I do not care for your impertinent tone, young man.”
She grimaced, and turned back around. Now, she knew that her father didn’t have any brains left in his fat head.
“Well, I do not care what you think,” Mallory returned, “but if I were you, I would be taking my leave right about now.”
“Do not presume to tell me what to do, St. Martin.”
“When you are in England, I shall presume to do whatever I wish. I’m sorry to tell you this, Woodward, but here in England, I hold all of the cards. If you push any further, I will endeavor to have certain people make life a living hell for you. The contacts you possess as the youngest son of a dead viscount, hold no sway in my circles, I’m afraid. And unlike my dear Papa, I hold quite a few influential friends, who would delight in making your life hell, as a favour to me. So toddle off, old man, and go back to your whores.”
“You still do not realize when you are speaking to your betters, boy.”
“I have grown weary of you. Unless you are an addle-brained buffoon, you will already know that I am a duke here in good old merry England. Just in case you were not aware, and for the life of me, I don’t know how you could be ignorant to it, seeing as you were born to a British viscount, a duke holds a great amount of sway in the British Empire.”
Elizabeth watched the lively exchange with hope in her heart. Unlike most people, Mallory could hold his own against her father, both in wits, and in strength. To finish it off, her father outdid himself, when he took a swing at Mallory.
Mallory, of course, easily blocked the punch, and then returned it in kind. Her father was knocked clear off his feet.
“That will be fifty pounds, Wooten,” one of Mallory’s friends said to the other, as the one named Wooten let out a prolonged groan.
She walked over to him, and bent down, so only he could hear her. “Oh, Papa, why couldn’t you leave well enough alone?”
His eyes gorged out of his head. “You…Bess…my daughter…well, I…you…I…well, well, I’ll be tarred and feathered. I guess you are your father’s child, after all,” he sputtered, as she stood up, and started to walk away. “Bess, wait, don’t go, you come back here! Wait! Please, don’t go!”
By the time someone had helped him to his feet, Elizabeth was already walking away from the scene, she could hear her cousin and Ron calling to her, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to fade away somewhere, and if she couldn’t be with Mallory, she wanted to be alone.
But she couldn’t escape Mallory that easily.
“Elizabeth, stop right this instant,” Mallory shouted, as he caught up with her. “You look ridiculous in that disguise, you know. Did Mary get to see you wearing it?” She slowly turned around, smiled sheepishly, and nodded in answer to his query. “If you must know, before you revealed yourself to me, I recognized you as soon as you let out that rather womanly sigh, to be sure, you make an awfully feminine dandy. I have told you in the past that you can never escape me. Now, do you believe me, my love?”
“Why would you want me now after I turned you away so cruelly?” she asked softly, trying to avert his penetrating gaze that commanded her as if he wove a spell on her.
He laughed, and stepped closer to her. “In case you blacked out for a few moments back there, I just won you in a game of rather unconventional whist.”
“And you did so with my blessing. But I also know that you aren’t the type of man to hold me to that bargain. You do not need me anymore, Mallory. As you can see, my father is alive and well, and I fear that he shall live for another good twenty years, if not more. Of course, by the look of astonishment, and then, pride on his face, I fear he will leave me all of his money when he dies, and we shall have a hard time keeping him away while he lives.”
“Maybe so, Elizabeth. But none of it matters to me anymore. You are correct in your assumption. I do not need that bastard’s money now, and I pray that I shall never see him again. But if I do not have you, nothing else matters. To have you by my side, I would brave any horrors, including having that sorry excuse for a man as my father-in-law.”
She licked her lips, and walked toward him. “Let me just clarify a few things. First of all, I shall not marry you, unless you agree that I am my own independent woman.”
“Agreed.” He kept his eyes trained on her, almost as if he were afraid that she was about to disappear into thin air.
“And you must agree to never leave me behind, no matter what. I know you will have difficulty with this, so I must have your solemn vow, Mallory.”
“Not even if I want to go to sea?”
“Not even if you want to go to sea. I am willing to brave unimaginable dangers, as long as I am by your side, Mallory. For this must be a partnership, an equal partnership.”
His eyes turned tumultuous. “I…” He looked tempted to give her a fight for it, but with a sigh, his eyes admitted defeat. “I give you my solemn vow. I will not leave you behind, if you want to accompany me. I shall endeavor to always hold you close, both figuratively and literally. I think we have been partners since our very first meeting, Elizabeth, my dearest.” He smiled at her, and she could feel her heart melting.
Mary had been right. She was about to walk down the path that she had always been destined for.
“Your father was right about one thing,” he mused thoughtfully.
“He was?” she asked, surprised.
“Aye,” he said, giving her a wicked smile. “He said I was a scoundrel, and I am…but I am your scoundrel, Miss Elizabeth.”
“In that case, Mallory St. Martin, I’ll be yours to have, and to hold,” she whispered her last profession, and then fell happily into his arms.
Their kiss was filled with insatiable hunger, and undeniable promise, and she knew that for once and for all, she had found a place to call home.
She had found Mallory St. Martin, her heart, her soul—her fairy prince.
The End
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His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1) Page 25
